Marked Man
by Gabriel Seraph
Summary: A dead sailor at a Mystery Writers' Convention in New York attracts the attention of both Rick Castle and Thom E. Gemcity, better known to us as Timothy McGee. Part 1 of the Scriven Bones Trilogy. A collaboration with Evenmoor. Moderate violence.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This story idea was inspired by a TVTropes entry on NCIS, suggesting a potential crossover with Castle and Bones. I'm sure others have done similar ideas before, too, and if I'm too close to your ideas I hereby apologize.

Also, since this story idea will be a bit out of my comfort zone - being largely non-speculative fiction and all - I decided I could use a collaborator on this particular story. I am happy to report that Evenmoor has accepted the job.

In the meantime, reception of all kinds will be appreciated. R&R and enjoy!

Marked Man

Chapter 1

For once, Rick Castle was content to not be the center of attention at the big event. This year's annual American Mystery Writers' Convention East was off in full swing, and Castle was in the audience attending the reading of the long-awaited third novel in the Continuing Adventures of L.J. Tibbs series. Rumor had it that Thom E. Gemcity had taken a long hiatus from writing after his typewriter ribbons had been stolen while he was in the process of writing _Rock Hollow_, and the same dirtbag had re-enacted crimes based on those Gemcity had planned to include in his own story. All this before the book had even been published, too! Castle had to admit, he'd found himself jealous. Sure, it was horrible and wrong that someone would be that deranged, but still, Castle's macabre mindset meant he couldn't really feel too bad for Gemcity. After all, getting famous meant opening oneself up in ways previously thought unimaginable, as Castle himself had learned the hard way many times.

Today, though, none of these thoughts would interfere with Castle's concentration on enjoying himself. Nothing could interfere with this. Except...

...yep, Beckett giving him a phone call from her work phone. That could only mean one thing. Murder! Nothing short of that could have gotten Castle to give up his seat at Gemcity's reading of _Marked Man._

Castle stepped outside into the lobby to take the call. "Beckett, this better be good. I'm missing out on the world's first taste of-"

"-Yeah, not important right now, Castle," Beckett interrupted. "And I'm looking at you right now, so just come across the lobby and see for yourself."

Castle hung up and obeyed Beckett's command, crossing the lobby to see her standing over a corpse alongside Ryan and Esposito. The corpse was dressed in a sailor's uniform, clearly Navy.

"What have we got?" asked Castle.

Beckett looked up from the dead guy's wallet. "Marcus Shaffer. Apparently he's a petty officer. Just what we need, a murder in the middle of Fleet Week. Lovely."

Ryan spoke up next. "He came into the building with a knife in the groin, and just collapsed within seconds. Looks like a nasty little blade, too," he added, showing Castle and Beckett the bagged switchblade he'd retrieved from the corpse's crotch.

"Oof," said Esposito. "What cold-hearted b- Hey, you can't be in here, sir!"

A slight man with a beige cardigan over a plain white shirt and khakis had just entered the scene and, in response to Espo's order, produced a badge to prove that he was entitled to be on the scene as well. "Special Agent Timothy McGee, NCIS," he said. "I understand you just found a dead sailor?"

Castle's eyes boggled. "Shut the front door. You're Thom E. Gemcity!"

McGee raised his eyebrow. "Yeah. I get that a lot. Could you move over, please. I'm not here to autograph your copies of _Marked Man_ or anything." He bent down to examine the body himself. With a curt nod to nobody in particular, McGee stood up and dialed a number on his phone. "Boss, you're gonna want to see this," he said. "Yes, I'm in New York. We got a dead sailor in the conference center."

Beckett glanced at Castle, seeing a sharp look on his face. "What is it, Castle?"

"This guy really is Thom E. Gemcity," said Castle. "I'm sure of it. I don't forget faces, Beckett. He thinks he can fool me by pretending _Marked Man_ is actually available to buy and have autographed. He must really think I'm an idiot."

"Yeah, whatever gave him that impression?" Beckett asked sardonically.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, how did Agent McGee get here so fast?" Castle asked Beckett in an aside as McGee spoke with his boss on the phone off to the side. "I mean, we only just got the call, right? The medical examiner hasn't even arrived. Speaking of which…you didn't pull that knife from his…" he trailed off awkwardly, wincing in sympathetic pain.

"His crotch?" Beckett finished for him, a semi-sadistic twinkle in her eye. "No, Castle, he pulled it out himself before he died."

"Yeah," Esposito agreed, a grimace on his face. "Pulling it out is probably what killed him."

"Blood loss. If he'd left it in, he might've made it, though maybe singing soprano for the rest of his life." Agent McGee nodded sagely as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves, having apparently finished his conversation with his boss. The NYPD contingent turned to stare at him.

"You're not from the New York NCIS office, are you, Agent McGee?" Beckett asked abruptly, eyes narrowed.

The federal agent did his best not to look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Er, no. I'm from the Major Case Response Team in Washington, D.C."

"Just like L.J. Tibbs! You are totally Thom E. Gemcity!" Castle crowed triumphantly, as if he had just learned that the Tooth Fairy was real and Christmas had come early.

"Castle!"

"Sorry," the irrepressible writer apologized, though he seemed pretty unrepentant. His enthusiasm was barely being held in check, and Beckett's glare was hardly helping the situation.

"So, what are you doing here, Agent McGee, and what makes you think that this is your jurisdiction?" Beckett shifted a bit uncomfortably; she had experienced federal jurisdiction-snatching herself, from both sides.

McGee raised his chin, standing his ground against the glares of the local detectives. "The New York NCIS office is a bit shorthanded at the moment dealing with the normal Fleet Week issues that you'd expect. Since I was already here, my boss said that he'd clear me to handle the case from NCIS's end, but you guys would have primary jurisdiction."

Castle blinked, and even Beckett seemed taken aback.

"So, you're not going to snatch the case out from under us?" Castle couldn't believe it. This had to be one of the most cooperative federal agents he'd ever met.

McGee made a expression that was a combination of sympathy, resignation, and aggravation. "I know. Shocking, isn't it. Look, Detective Beckett, I didn't come to New York to investigate a murder. I get enough of that back in D.C. For now, I'm just here to observe and advise. Unless something big comes up, this is your show."

"'For now,'" Ryan muttered under his breath, as if expecting McGee to change his mind at any moment.

Esposito, who had been lost in thought, spoke up abruptly. "Hey, Agent McGee. Your boss an older guy with a glare that could leave Marines crying for their mommies? Gray hair, blue eyes? Answers to the name of Gibbs?"

Every head swiveled to stare at him.

McGee frowned slightly, as if trying to place Esposito's face from somewhere. "Yeah…"

"Hey, weren't you Army? How do you know a Navy cop?" Ryan demanded, obviously miffed that there was something that he didn't know about his partner.

"That's classified," Espo replied glibly, his amusement at the situation abundantly clear.

"Really!" Castle grinned with growing interest. "The plot thickens! This is just too good to pass up! Come on, is it really classified, or-"

"That's classified."

"Espo!" Beckett chided him impatiently.

"No, it really is classified. Well, part of it is…" He winced slightly at some memory. "Anyway, Gibbs is one of the good guys. If you're one of his," Espo nodded to McGee, "then we got no problem."

"Are you guys standing around on my behalf, or this dead guy got you boys all rattled?"

Lanie Parrish, medical examiner, stood with her arms folded across her chest and giving them all a Look. "And please tell me that you didn't remove that knife from the body."

Beckett grinned affectionately for her best friend's proprietary nature. "No, Lanie, it was next to the body. We know better than to touch the body and things in it before you get here. Oh, Lanie, this is Special Agent McGee from NCIS. He's generously here to 'observe and advise' us on the case since it involves a member of the Navy. Agent McGee, this is Dr. Lanie Parrish from the Medical Examiner's Office."

"Well, hello there," Lanie flirted outrageously, her eyes running up and down the agent's body. "I don't meet many Navy cops. Especially not cute ones."

"Um, yeah, ah, hi." McGee swallowed, his face flushing an embarrassing red under her evaluating gaze.

Esposito cleared his throat, clearly annoyed with the attention Lanie was paying the agent despite his earlier assurances to McGee. "Ah, guys. The body?" He pointed at the seemingly-forgotten reason they were all present.

Grinning, Lanie knelt down next to the corpse. "Ouch," she noted none-too-clinically. "I'm guessing you don't need me to determine time of death. And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say cause of death was massive exsanguination caused by sharp force trauma to the…pubic region."

The men all winced.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"You guys, don't be such wimps," Lanie chided them. "It's only natural to feel bad for this kind of family-jewel pillaging, but can we all be professional?"

Espo cocked his eyebrow. "Sure," he said. "You know, if you ever want to look for anything that puts the existence of God in doubt..."

"Like you don't laugh at that kind of stunt on _Jackass_," Lanie said.

Ryan clutched the bagged knife in his hands a bit harder. "That's because they intentionally damage themselves," he said. "It's funny that way."

"Enough," said Castle, of all people. "All this talk about _Jackass_ and groin attacks is getting too much. Dr. Parrish, please continue," he added, his voice dripping exaggerated politeness.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Castle," said Lanie. "Although I don't get why you're gonna object to talk about groin attacks, given what we're looking at today. But never mind. In any case, I doubt keeping the knife in would have helped much anyway. Poor Petty Officer Shaffer also seems to have suffered from some very nasty internal bleeding." She pulled up the sailor's dress shirt, revealing huge bruises all over his stomach and chest, as well as something truly odd - what appeared to be a gunshot wound, except it was covered in scabby, burned skin. "Someone shot our boy in the gut and cauterized the entry wound," Lanie explained.

"Hoo boy," said McGee. "Sounds sadistic."

Ryan moved over to the front door. "I'm gonna hand this off to the CSU's, have them dust it for prints." He shook the knife in its bag and left the room.

"How are we handling the public end of things here?" Esposito asked Beckett.

"The main conference hall is on lockdown at the moment," said Beckett. "Everyone was in there, I think, for Mr. Gemcity's reading."

"That's gonna have to wait a while, isn't it?" Castle asked, nodding at McGee.

Ignoring him, Beckett continued talking to Espo. "Everything else is business as usual for us - the block is cordoned off, we got people obtaining the security footage as we speak. So I don't think this is gonna take too long for us. In the meantime, has anyone informed the sailor's next of kin yet?"

"Not yet," said Espo. "We're still waiting on that info to...oh, here it is," he said as a uni handed off the slip of paper. "Looks like we got his father living here in New York. Matthew Shaffer, he's an Episcopalian priest. Wow, this is gonna be difficult for him."

"Go tell him," said Beckett. "And take Agent McGee with you, make him useful." She turned to Ryan as he came back into the lobby. "You got anything?"

"No fingerprints yet," said Ryan, "but this woman claiming to be the vic's girlfriend is trying to get in and see him."

Beckett frowned. "I got this. Castle, come with me. Espo, the dad?"

Esposito started, then realized where he was supposed to be going. "Come on, Agent McGee," he said, beckoning the thinner man out the door.

Inside the car, Espo waited until they were at a stoplight before asking. "So, you really are Thom E. Gemcity?"

McGee looked off to the side as if embarrassed. "Um, yeah, I am. You're not a fan, are you?"

"Not as much as Castle," said Espo. "I have to say, though, I was really glad to hear you were doing another L.J. Gibbs - sorry, _Tibbs_ - book. Why the long break?"

"Last time, someone stole my typewriter ribbons out of the trash and re-enacted the crimes I created in the book," McGee said. "He even copied the cocktail I invented, he was that devoted. So I heavily edited _Rock Hollow_ afterwards and decided to swear off writing for a while."

"Damn, that sucks," said Espo. "Yeah, I can see how un-Castle-y you are. Castle would relish that kind of attention."

"He seems a bit...psychotic," said McGee.

"He probably is," said Espo. "But in a good way. After all, he puts his macabre imagination to use for the forces of good."

McGee laughed. "That's good. Hey, incidentally, how did you meet-"

"We're here," said Espo, pulling up to the curb outside St. James Episcopalian Church and signaling to McGee that the mysterious Esposito-Gibbs war story would, sadly, have to be put on the back burner for a little longer.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Javier Esposito loved his job - he loved investigating the crime, figuring out the identity of the bad guy, and especially the part where he got to take the scumbag down. The danger, the less-than-stellar paycheck, the long hours…well, he could live with that. The satisfaction of putting bad guys behind bars was more than compensation.

But the one part of his job that he truly disliked was notification. The knocking on the door, the expression on the face of the person who answers when you tell them that you're a cop, the way their eyes widened when you tell them that their son, daughter, brother, sister, mom, dad, wasn't coming home. For many of them, this would be the worst moment of their lives. And then, it was his job to compound the situation, to get answers out of them, while they were still processing the fact that their loved one was dead. Violently, unexpectedly, suddenly ripped from their lives, leaving a raw and gaping wound.

Matthew Shaffer just stood in the doorway, staring at them in confusion and disbelief. He was clutching a cup of coffee in his hand, his knuckles gone white with the pressure.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, sir," Agent McGee offered, his lips twitching sympathetically. "May we come in?"

The man shook his head, dispelling his stupor. "Yes, yes, of course. Please," his voice cracked with emotion. He led them into a comfortable sitting room area. Esposito noticed a picture of his son in his Navy uniform hanging proudly on the wall. The family resemblance was easy to see, though Matthew's hair was slate gray to his son's dark brown.

"What…" The man swallowed, closing his eyes a moment to compose himself. "Please, tell me, what happened? How did my son die? I just…I just saw him yesterday. He was so excited to be home for Fleet Week…"

"Reverend, I'm sorry to tell you, but your son was murdered. Do you know of anyone who would have a grudge against him, anyone who'd want to hurt him?" Esposito asked gently as he sat down on one of the well-padded chairs.

"Murdered!" Shaffer half-choked on the word. "I don't… I…" His dark eyes, filled with tears, darted from Esposito's face to Agent McGee's before dropping to the forgotten coffee cup in his hand.

"Please, Reverend, anything you can tell us might help." Agent McGee seemed more subdued than before, not that Esposito could blame him.

Shaffer swallowed and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, of course, you're right. I don't know anyone who might want to kill…" His voice stumbled briefly. "...kill my son. But he wasn't perfect, and he may have had problems he didn't share with me."

"You said you saw him yesterday?" Espo prompted.

"Yes," Shaffer nodded. "He stopped by as soon as he was able to get off the ship. He was so happy, I thought…he and his girlfriend had been having some problems, but I thought she and Marcus had made up, you know?"

Agent McGee's eyebrows twitched slightly, but Esposito couldn't read anything in the expression. "What's his girlfriend's name?"

The reverend's face dropped to his hand, and his shoulders shuddered. "Gabriela," he whispered. "Marcus was so shy in high school. Awkward, always putting his foot in his mouth... I'll never forget the look on his face when he told me that she'd asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance junior year. I'd never seen him so… enchanted."

Shaffer managed a weak smile. "She got him into some trouble back then. Stupid stuff. Kid stuff. Drove me absolutely crazy, but he loved her. And when Marcus enlisted in the Navy, she seemed so proud. She promised she'd wait for him as long as he needed, she'd always be there for him… What am I going to tell her?"

"What's Gabriela's last name?" Esposito wondered if it was Gabriela at the crime scene, desperate to find out if her boyfriend was alright, only to learn that he'd been brutally murdered, his body only yards from the door.

"Acevedo. She's a barista at a Starbucks a few blocks away."

"You said that Marcus and Gabriela were having problems. Do you know what they were?" asked the NCIS agent, his tone calm, gentle, reassuring. Espo mused that while McGee might look like someone's rookie trainee, but the guy knew his job.

"Something about a girl he met in New Orleans when his ship was in port there. He told me that Gabriela thought the girl was trying to seduce him away. Marcus thought Gabriela was overreacting…I really don't know anything else." Matthew Shaffer heaved a sigh, finally setting down the cooling coffee on the table. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. Please, please…find the person who murdered my son."

The reverend locked eyes with Esposito, and the detective could easily read what had been left unsaid; Matthew Shaffer may have been a man of God, but he was also a father suffering an anguish no parent should have to face.

* * *

Beckett found the woman claiming to be Petty Officer Shaffer's girlfriend sitting on a bench outside the hotel, flanked by a couple of uniformed officers present to make sure she didn't either try to break the perimeter again or disappear into the ether before the detectives had a chance to question her.

"Excuse me. I'm Detective Kate Beckett, and this is Richard Castle. You're Petty Officer Shaffer's girlfriend?" Beckett asked, sitting down next to her.

The woman, barely more than a girl, it seemed, looked up at them. Her big, dark eyes were red and puffy, and she had the shredded remains of a tissue clutched in her hands. "Yeah," she nodded, more of a shudder than a nod. "Gabriela Acevedo. Please, Detective, you have to find her. She did this, I know it!"

"'She?' Who is she, and why are you so sure she killed Petty Officer Shaffer?" Castle immediately asked.

Gabriela's face hardened, her features taking on a shade of fury. "Annette Laporte. She followed Marcus all the way from New Orleans. Thirteen hundred miles, can you believe it? And Marcus, well, Marcus thought it was all one big coincidence, that she just happened to show up in New York at the same time he did."

It did seem rather unlikely, and even less likely that they would happen to run into each other in such a big city, Beckett thought.

"How do you know she's here?" she asked.

"Because the _puta_ called him, that's how!" Gabriela snapped. "Marcus and I were having dinner together last night, and she actually called him! Said that she was here in New York, that they should get together while he was on shore leave. I told Marcus that she was totally _loca_, but he just laughed it off. Said he'd see her today and tell her once and for all that there was nothing between them. I was supposed to meet him here so we could go ring shopping…" All the anger seemed to drain out of her, leaving behind only grief.

Beckett shared a meaningful glance with Castle. This was definitely significant evidence. "Thank you for your time, Miss Acevedo. I'll have an officer take you home."

Gabriela nodded briefly, tears leaking from her eyes. "Thank you, Detective," she sobbed quietly.

Beckett and Castle stepped away as one of the unis gently escorted the distraught woman to a nearby cruiser.

"I've had my share of obsessed fans," Castle observed with rare gravity. "You know as well as I do that it rarely ends well."

"When someone's that attached to a fantasy of a person, of a life, and then they're confronted by reality, they do their best to destroy whatever doesn't fit," Beckett agreed wholeheartedly.

"So, Petty Officer Shaffer confronts his stalker, tells her that he's not in love with her, they'll never be together…" Castle suggested.

"...and instead of facing reality, she suffers a psychotic break and reacts by torturing and killing the very object of her thwarted desires," Beckett finished. "I'm definitely thinking we should track down this Annette Laporte."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Upon returning to the precinct, Beckett started printing up the requisite photos for the Murder Board - the victim, the girlfriend, the murder weapon, etc. Then she started filling in all the details as needed, and left a few spaces while Ryan and Esposito looked for more pictures. For instance, that of Annette Laporte. This picture was, for some reason, proving quite difficult to find. Neither Ryan nor Espo were able to find a single photo of Annette Laporte, or even any record of a woman in New York or New Orleans under that name.

"How can this be?" Castle asked nobody in particular. "It seems like a common enough name. How is there not even one person called Annette Laporte to be found?"

Beckett sighed as she inked a huge question mark under the heading "Annette Laporte," then she turned to McGee. "Agent McGee, I'd really hate to take advantage, but do you think-"

"-I can contact my team and have them start searching?" McGee finished for her. "No problem, Detective. As far as I'm aware, DiNozzo has nothing to do right now, and he gets...restless, to say the least. Last time that happened, my desk drawers got filled up with shaving cream."

As McGee moved aside to call the home office, Ryan turned to Espo and whispered, "Shaving cream? Really? That's a beginner's move."

"Damn straight, buddy," said Espo. He resumed typing away at his computer and, after a minute, looked up to speak. "BOLO's out on Annette Laporte," he said. "You know, it'd help if Gabriela could describe her to us. Where is she, anyway?"

Castle checked the Murder Board to see what info had been written under Gabriela Acevedo's photo. "Probably back at Starbucks. I wonder, is that her only job?"

"It isn't," said Beckett as she consulted her iPhone. "She's also in some off-Broadway production of _I Hate Hamlet._"

"Oh, Jenny and I loved that play," said Ryan. "Truly hilarious stuff. What character does she play?"

"Lillian Troy."

Ryan nodded appreciatively. "Excellent. She gets to play the best character in the whole show."

Castle laughed. "I just hope she does a better job than my mother. No seriously, she just did a stint as Lillian Troy...God, how long ago was it? Three years? Four?"

"Your mom, do a bad acting job?" Espo asked.

"Perish the thought," Ryan added.

"I dunno if I should be offended by that, or if I should applaud your taste," Castle said.

McGee returned to the middle of the bullpen and asked Beckett, "Could I borrow your computer, please?" Once Beckett had signed him in, McGee proceeded to open his e-mail and print an attachment. "DiNozzo just sent me this - a photo of Annette Laporte. Two different sailors have accused her of harassment over the last six months, all in New Orleans." He crossed to the Murder Board and tacked up the photo, which depicted a black woman with short hair covered by a bright green headscarf.

"Add that to the BOLO detail," Beckett told Espo. "Was Marcus Shaffer one of those two sailors, by any chance?" she asked McGee.

"As a matter of fact, no," said McGee. "That's a real surprise, don't you think?"

"You don't think they were having an affair or something, do you?" Ryan asked. "If they were, maybe Marcus wouldn't want to draw attention to them, so he wouldn't report her."

"The father said something about Gabriela thinking Annette wanted to seduce the vic," Espo pointed out. "That doesn't necessarily mean they actually did anything. Maybe Gabriela was just being paranoid."

Beckett rubbed her chin. "Of course, if your dad were a priest, you wouldn't wanna tell him you're cheating on your girlfriend. It's not exactly impossible." She crossed to the Murder Board and wrote "Possible Paramour?" underneath Annette's photo.

Once Beckett moved aside, Castle continued to gaze at the photo. "Hmm," he said. "You know, I find it a bit hard to believe our victim would be sneaking off with this girl. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but she seems really...I dunno...smart. Analytical. Not likely to be ruled by passion."

"How can you be sure?" asked McGee.

"Writer," said Castle, tapping his forehead. "Reading people is part of my business. Something you should know all about, eh, _Gemcity?_" he added with a wink.

McGee was spared answering by a phone call to Ryan. As he hung up, he announced to the team, "We've got Annette Laporte's hotel room. Melville's Hotel on 25th. Come on, let's go get her."

As the team crossed the room to the elevator, McGee hung back and pulled Esposito aside. "That Castle," he said, "is he always so immature?"

"'Fraid so," said Espo. "But the guy's brilliant, so that makes up for it in spades."

McGee nodded. "Yeah, I think I can handle him. DiNozzo's way worse."

"Does DiNozzo do pop-culture references at the drop of a hat?" Espo asked.

"Yeah, why?"

Espo smirked. "There's a showdown of annoyance I'd pay good money to see."

"You comin' or what?" Castle called. "We can't hold the elevator forever!"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Team Castle and their visitor had arrived at Melville's Hotel, presented their search warrant to the manager, and procured the key to Annette Laporte's room. Beckett knocked on the door and announced herself as NYPD, then waited for a response. When none came, she unlocked the door and led the group inside.

"Nobody home," said Castle. "Too bad. I was so hoping someone would be here to run. Ryan needs the exercise."

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" Ryan asked.

Castle shrugged and held up his hands, then joined the rest in their search of the room. There was virtually nothing to be found to suggest Annette Laporte's presence - no bags, no toiletries, not even a wallet. However, there was one object that showed some promise. On the bedside table was a single piece of paper with two things written on it. One was a line of complete and utter gibberish: "_S evcs uha eymmguwpk kz qrkuroz-gv: htvvy knjfv tzw ggosmn ig dgj wn!_" Underneath this was a single word, underlined: "Scriven."

"Code, obviously," said Beckett, frowning as she read the mysterious note.

McGee took a look. "It could be anything. Atbash, Caesar. Hmm. Maybe Vigenère?"

"Either way," said Espo, "right now we've got nothing. We're at a dead end."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

McGee opted to ride back to the precinct with Castle and Beckett, leaving Esposito and Ryan alone in their sedan. For the first minute and a half, they drove in silence, which was just fine as far as Esposito was concerned. There was a lot to think about, and this whole case was getting stranger with every new piece of evidence.

Then Ryan, predictably, started asking the really important questions.

"So…how do you know Agent McGee's boss?" he asked innocently as they were trapped at a stoplight.

Esposito shot him an incredulous look. "Seriously, bro? Of all the stuff going on - guy stabbed in the crotch, possible psycho stalker wannabe girlfriend, empty hotel room with only a mysterious ciphered message - and you wanna know about how I know an NCIS agent who's not even here?"

His partner smiled brightly in that enthusiastic puppy-dog way of his. "Well, I kinda figured that we'd figure all that stuff out eventually, anyway, so I might as well ask. Come on, it's not like it's actually classified, anyway…is it?"

The traffic light remained stubbornly red; Esposito was more than half convinced that DOT was messing with the signal cycle just to drive him nuts. "Nah, 'course not, bro," he replied sweetly, just before his face fell into deathly serious lines. "But if I tell you, I'm gonna have to kill you."

"Okay, now you're just messing with me," his partner objected suspiciously.

This was just too much fun. "Am I? You sure about that?"

"Yeah, pretty sure!" Ryan replied in an uneasy voice that actually seemed an octave too high.

Espo leaned across the console toward his partner. "Listen, I can tell you something, bro, but you gotta swear not to tell anyone else I told you. Promise?"

Ryan's bright blue eyes went wide. "Of course, yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise!" he assured him fervently.

Espo leaned even closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Gibbs takes his coffee black."

Ryan's expression dropped. "Oh, come on," he pleaded. "Seriously, Javi?"

Esposito shrugged helplessly; Ryan really had perfected that pathetic hangdog look of his. Resisting it made him feel like he was kicking a puppy. "Sorry, bro. No can do. Just remember that if you ever do meet him, never, and I mean NEVER, get on the man's bad side. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said that his glare could send Marines cryin' for their mommies."

Luckily, the signal finally chose that moment to turn green, and Espo heaved a sigh of relief. Ryan, meanwhile, looked like he was mulling his partner's statement and opened his mouth to say something.

"So, bro, how's Jenny doin'?" Espo interrupted brightly. "Pregnancy treating her okay and all?"

It was, of course, the perfect diversion. Ryan happily babbled on about his wife and the baby all the way back to the precinct.

* * *

By the time Esposito and Ryan rejoined the rest of the team in the bullpen, both Castle and McGee were smugly leaning against a desk, staring at the Murder Board. They'd taped up the evidence bag containing Annette Laporte's note, and Beckett was writing on the board beneath it.

"Well, you guys look like the proverbial cat that ate the Canari à l'Orange," Ryan remarked, still clearly feeling the warm fuzzies from sharing about his family all the way back to the precinct.

"Ho, ho, did my man Ryan just make a bilingual pun?" Castle grinned broadly, clapping the other man on the shoulder. "I'm so proud!"

Agent McGee's expression twitched like he was trying to decide whether he was amused or annoyed at Castle's antics before finally settling on "business as usual." "Puns notwithstanding, on the way back to the precinct, we deciphered Annette Laporte's message. Vigenère cipher, as I suspected. Simple matter of running it through a converter, once we realized that the word 'scriven' at the bottom there was the cipher's key."

"And, as I have grown to expect from cases such as these, things just got weirder," Castle concluded as Beckett stepped back from the board. Below the note, she had written "_À ceux qui cherchent ce message-ci: prend garde les tombes et les os!"_

"Oookaaay… this may be a dumb question, and you know how I'm not usually the one to ask the dumb questions, but I didn't take even high school French, so what does that say?" The message might as well still be ciphered as far as Esposito was concerned.

"It means," Beckett explained, swiftly adding the translation to the white board, "'To those who find this message: beware of the graves and bones!'"

"Cryptic and ominous, all in one sentence," observed Castle facetiously.

"Y'know, Beckett, I could swear that you translated those words into English, but it still makes no sense," Espo grumbled as he slid into his desk chair.

"Well, obviously it's a warning of some kind. But is it a threat or a friendly warning? And who did Annette Laporte intend it for?" Beckett folded her arms, staring thoughtfully at the innocuous piece of paper hanging on the Murder Board in an evidence bag.

"Us, possibly? Law enforcement?" suggested McGee, though he sounded less than confident in the theory. "Though the fact that she took the time to cipher it tells me that she's doesn't want someone reading it. Vigenère can be very time consuming to break without knowing the key."

"I'd like to add a couple more questions, myself," Castle put in, tapping a finger against the white board. "And this one might seem obvious, but does this warning have anything at all to do with the murder? And, if it is connected, what does it even mean? 'Beware of the graves and bones.' Is it some sort of death threat? Maybe we're losing something in translation."

"And maybe it only means something to her," Ryan offered. "I mean, if Gabriela was right, and the woman's crazy, maybe it's part of some fantasy of hers."

"In which case, the message might mean absolutely nothing to us," Agent McGee continued the thought. His expression became thoughtful as his eyes slid over to the file photo of their missing suspect. "Though even if Annette Laporte really is crazy, she's definitely not stupid. I'll contact the NCIS agents in New Orleans; maybe they know something more about her that's not in the harassment reports."

Beckett nodded gratefully. "Thanks. Hopefully that'll help us at least understand what's going through her head. Meanwhile, the BOLO's still out on her, and with thirty five thousand cops in this city, one of us has gotta find her."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lanie called Beckett and Castle over to the lab so she could tell them the final results of Petty Officer Shaffer's autopsy. "And bring Agent McGee, too," she added.

Once they were all in the lab, Lanie pulled the sheet off the victim's chest, the better to allow her to raise his hands up towards the Castle, McGee, and Beckett. All three spared a second to look at the ugly bruises and cauterized bullet wound that covered his torso before turning their attention to Lanie. "As you can see, our boy has some pretty nasty ligature marks," she said. "His ankles have them too. Somebody tied him up really tight. They didn't want him to get away."

"Whoever it was, they had to have overpowered him somehow, right?" asked Beckett.

"Yeah, a man his size wouldn't be easy to subdue," said McGee.

Lanie produced a freshly-printed piece of paper and handed it off to Beckett. "And this is how they were able to do it."

Beckett scanned the page, which showed the results of the vic's tox screen. "Chloral hydrate?"

"In very small amounts, too," said Lanie. "Just enough to make him woozy, but not enough to really knock him out."

Castle's lips pursed. "Whoever did this really was a sadist," he said. "I mean, giving him all these nasty injuries and keeping him awake but unable to defend himself...can we say, 'torture technician?'"

"Man, if it was Annette Laporte," said Beckett, "I'd be afraid to confront her."

Castle, McGee, and Beckett made their way back to the bullpen, spending much of the walk in somber silence. Finally, McGee spoke up. "You guys have no idea how badly I wanna see this killer fry now. It's bad enough they killed a sailor, but the way they did it is really just unforgivable. There's a special hell waiting for this one."

"Like what they got for rapists, child molesters, and people who talk at the theater?" Castle asked. "Unless my mother's performing, of course."

"Not that stupid line again," Beckett groaned. "This isn't really the right time."

Castle ducked behind a corner just as Beckett and McGee turned past it to enter the bullpen. "It's always the right time to invoke..." He leaned out from behind the corner and intoned dramatically, "The _special_ hell."

"I guess you're right," conceded Beckett with a small smile. "Ryan, Espo, what have we got?"

"Annette Laporte," said Espo. "In the flesh. And you're not gonna believe this - she turned herself in."

"Doesn't sound like a sociopathic-killer thing to do," Castle said.

Beckett frowned at him, then turned to McGee. "You wanna come question her with me?"

McGee nodded and followed Beckett to Interrogation.

* * *

"Annette Laporte," said Beckett, who then introduced herself and McGee to the African-American woman, who was wearing a headscarf just like the one in the photo that still hung on the Murder Board. "We've been looking for you for hours. Do you know how hard it was to find any trace of you in the system?"

Annette Laporte stayed quiet, blinking every so often, evenly, normally. McGee looked at Annette clinically, trying to get a read on her. Just as Castle had said earlier, the woman projected a somewhat cold, calculating aura. _Analytical,_ as Castle had said. Perhaps there was something to be said for the other man's social and writing skills. He then looked from Annette to Beckett and wondered if she, like himself, hated it when people pleaded the Fifth during questioning. The only things worse were lawyering up, or pleading the Fifth _and_ lawyering up. He frowned as he remembered a case he had recently worked on, where a Marine suspected of murder had confided his alibi to his lawyer, and the lawyer had refused to divulge it, forcing the team to work double-hard to figure it out and confirm it for themselves.

"Do you know this man?" Beckett asked, showing Annette the photo of the victim. "Petty Officer Marcus Shaffer. His girlfriend says you do. Says you've been trying to seduce him away from her."

More silence. McGee pulled out the paper with the names of the two sailors who had complained about Annette in New Orleans. "What about these sailors? They sure didn't have much nice to say about you, Ms. Laporte."

"And what about this?" Beckett pulled out the photocopy of the ciphered note Annette had left in her hotel room, plus the message as decoded by McGee. "'Beware the graves and bones?' What does that mean?"

Suddenly, Annette laughed, a single harsh, bitter laugh. "Seduce him? Really? That's what the barista told you? She clearly knows nothing about me. I wouldn't cheat on my wife."

"Don't change the sub- wait." McGee frowned again. "Did you say, 'wife?'"

"I'm gay. So what?" said Annette. "In fact, call my wife at home to confirm it. Her name's Marie LeBon. Can I write down her number?"

Beckett handed Annette her phone instead. "Just dial it in and I'll make the call myself." Annette did so, and Beckett stepped outside to see whether or not the woman spoke the truth.

"But you do know the barista," McGee said. "Gabriela Acevedo. You know she's accused you of murdering her boyfriend? Quite brutally, I might add."

"I betcha she did it herself," said Annette. "My guess? She had a psychotic break and she's projecting all the bad crap she's done onto me, because she thinks I'm getting between her and her man." She sighed. "I can't stay silent if it means I'm implicated in whatever she's done."

"Did you meet Petty Officer Shaffer in New Orleans?" McGee asked.

"Yes," said Annette. "And the same with the other two sailors. But I wasn't trying to harass or seduce them or anything. I needed help. I still need help, as a matter of fact." She paused, then looked around the room, as if afraid that someone were listening in. And, with the cameras on, that was more than likely. Then she swallowed and looked at her feet, a downcast expression on her face. "God. He's dead? I don't believe it. He used to talk about that barista a lot, and from the sound of it she was a real control freak. Kept keeping tabs on him, demanding to know where he was, who he met, the works. I had a girlfriend like that back in the nineties. I wouldn't wish that sort of thing on anybody."

Soon, Beckett re-entered the room and told McGee that, sure enough, Annette did have a wife named Marie LeBon living with her in New Orleans who was able to confirm that fact with her on the phone. "Except for one little detail. She insists her wife's name is not Annette Laporte at all. She says it's Jeannette Farber."

Annette made a small, inscrutable grunting noise. "Well, the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? I might as well tell you guys what's happening. Only, could you turn off the cameras first? I really don't wanna risk being overheard."

"Fine by me," said Beckett. She crossed the room, signaled through the window to cut the cameras, and closed the blinds to further ensure privacy.

Once the red light on the camera stopped blinking, Annette pulled a leather wallet out of her pantsuit pocket and flipped it open, revealing a badge marked "National Security Agency," and an ID card bearing Annette's photo (minus the headscarf), but with the name "Jeannette Farber."

"And does your wife know you're NSA?" McGee asked. Inside, however, he had misgivings. Anyone could print up fake law enforcement credentials with surprising ease, and they had no way to prove Annette/Jeannette was really who she claimed she was, aside from her word, of course. For all he knew, Gabriela may have been right about the other woman all along, and maybe she was a psychopath with great skill at faking social niceties. And maybe at inventing things just to tell people what they wanted to hear.

"Marie's one of us too," said Agent Farber "That's how I met her, in fact."

"So what does the NSA need with a sailor?" Beckett asked.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into," said Farber. "Or how lucky you were to have stumbled upon it this way."


End file.
